


Just one dance more

by thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Tumblr Prompt, no really, romance novel trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8811892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriarLily/pseuds/thewayofthetrashcompactor
Summary: Rey is at the First Order's ridiculous masquerade for one reason only. 
But there's probably no harm in enjoying herself.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vivien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivien/gifts).



> Written for a [tumblr prompt](http://thewayofthetrashcompactor.tumblr.com/post/154268625073/prompt-something-with-force-tentacles-no) for Vivien: "SOMETHING WITH FORCE TENTACLES! No, seriously, Reylo masquerade of some kind. A ball maybe?" 
> 
> No force tentacles, unfortunately (maybe next time...)

Rey stepped from the grand staircase, and the crowd filling the floor immediately swept her into its movements. Pairs spun across the dance floor, while the rest of the guests circled around them, flitting from one conversation to the next. Rey quickly slipped into the flow around her, stopping to linger at the edges of conversations, trading tinkling laughs and vague pleasantries before gliding off to the next group. Creatures of all sorts filled the hall, many humanoid, but plenty not, and Rey fit in as one of many. Her red and cream dress that crossed in folds over her chest, accented with golden cords that hung to the floor, placed her somewhere in the middle of the outfits worn by the other guests, which ranged from strategic scraps of fabric to many layered sets of armor. Her head itched where she had secured it into an elaborate updo, held in place by a heavy and ostentatious metal cage, but she didn’t dare scratch it.

The only constant among the array of guests was a mask in some form on every face, including Rey’s. Apparently the event tonight was some sort of tradition, and the First Order clung to their traditions. Rey certainly didn’t mind. While she was confident she could have done her job without the disguises, infiltrating a room where everyone concealed their identity was infinitely easier. And the easier it was, the less she had to rely on others to complete her job. Tonight’s job promised a hefty reward, one she preferred not to share any more than she had too. Once she was paid for this, she’d have enough to be a little more discerning in the work she took.

As she made her way around the floor, Rey subtly glanced outward, noting the discreet hallways along the edges leading off from the main room. Plans for the building weren’t exactly lying around, but she’d done enough research to be confident she could find her target. Even when she thought she’d found the hallway she needed, she continued her path around the room. It was too early in the evening for her to slip away unnoticed. 

She listened to the bits and pieces of conversations around her as she passed by. Despite the variety of species, only one language was spoken, and nothing was said. Pleasantries were passed back and forth in the same way as the dancers out on the floor. Rey nodded seriously at one person’s comments on the uselessness of the Senate, then smiled agreeably as another talked effusively of the distinguished guests that they shared the room with and the senator’s impeccable taste. Apparently their host for the night, Lord Ren, was well regarded in the Order’s ranks. She was laughing at another guest’s dry commentary on the city when someone tugged at her elbow. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned and found a man with bluish skin and a dark mask extending his hand to her.

“Dance?” he offered imperiously.

She smiled, subtly glancing around the room as she placed her hand in his. She still had plenty of time to kill. 

Her partner strode out onto the floor with her by his side. They fell easily into step with the crowd; he was more than content to lead, and she let him. The dance was unusual, but with steps familiar enough for her to follow. They moved seamlessly in and out of the other couples, until a change in the music caught Rey off guard. Her partner’s hand left hers, and she found herself facing another guest, this one in a costume too overwhelming for her to make out much of their appearance. She wondered how they could move under the weight of the fabric and trappings, but they managed well enough until she was passed off again. She barely caught a glimpse of her next partner before they changed once more, and the music grew faster. 

The dancers kept pace without a single misstep, and they began to blur as they passed her. She moved instinctively, hardly thinking about the following step as she ducked under one partner and twirled around the next. Hands passed over hands in fleeting touches: cool, sweaty, gloved, clawed. One grasped hers and she glanced back, following the momentum forward, only to find herself pulled back as the music crescendoed with a crash. The man’s other hand came around her waist as she spun to face him, and she gave a short gasp as it landed on her bare skin. She rested the hand he wasn’t holding on his chest, which was broad and covered in heavy black robes. She looked up to meet his eyes, but his face was fully covered by his mask, also black, accented in the same silver as his clothes. Under her hand, she almost thought she could feel the pounding of his heart. 

She began to pull away again, but the music resumed, at a slower pace now. His hand gripped hers tightly, and his fingers pressed briefly at her waist before lightening again. He took a small step back, as if preparing to let her go, but she stepped into him instead. His head jerked slightly, then he held her more firmly as they moved into the dance. She curled her hand over his shoulder, and he led them through the dips and turns with surprising grace. His hand on her waist rested in the gap between the fabric that crossed her chest and where it spread into her skirts. The leather was warm, and the span of his large hand curled around to her back. The movements of the dance kept them close. Her light skirts flowed around their legs, but he never missed a step. 

As they pulled together through another turn, her hand wrapped around his shoulder, and her face nearly touched the cool metal of his mask. The quiet grating of his breath through the metal rasped in her ear, and her own breath hitched in response. Finally, the music slowed to a stop, the dance ending before she expected. They pulled back from each other slightly, and her eyes searched the blank facade of his mask. She kept her hold on him, letting him take the initiative to let go. His mask didn’t look away from her; she felt his gaze. The music started again, and they took the first step together. 

In the back of her mind, Rey kept track of the passing time. It was still early in the evening; she could spend several more dances on the floor before slipping away. She let herself be consumed by the dance for the moment, breathing out as they swept around the edges of the floor, breathing in as her partner’s hand shifted to her back to hold her as they wove through the other dancers. The same senses that led her to the treasures she found and sold buzzed at her skin, energy racing through her. She gripped her partner as she felt her cheeks grow warm in the close air. It would be easy to disregard the feeling as the adrenaline rush she felt during any job, but the immediacy was new, and the intensity was unnerving. She looked into her partner’s face, trying to see beyond the mask, and he met her gaze. His mask remained impassive, but under her hand she could feel his breathing quicken, from more than the exertion of the dance. Their gaze held, and her heart’s rapid beat pounded against her chest. 

“You feel it too,” she murmured, almost unconsciously.

His sharp inhale was like a rush of static as his fingers flexed on her back. “How-” he began uncertainly, then cut off. The music played, but neither of them listened. “Yes,” he hissed.

She smiled, fiercely, almost baring teeth. The pulse rose and filled her chest, spurring her on with every beat. She reached into the feeling, pushing against it, and felt something reaching back. She grabbed onto the sensation, exploring it, letting it overwhelm her. It was if the room, the building wasn’t enough, she could fill the city and still burn brighter. Her fingers dug into his shoulder and he immediately pulled her closer, their bodies brushing with every step. She breathed in warm leather and cool metal and heard his harsh breaths. She knew her face was flushed, and she wanted desperately to know if his was as well. They danced much closer than the dance required, but it wasn’t enough; she wanted to press herself against him and see if that would calm the heady vibration humming under her skin, or just make it stronger. She didn’t know what it was about the man she was dancing with that made her crave adding risk to her carefully considered plans, but it was something so entangled with her that she couldn’t tear it apart. She’d think she was drunk if she had touched any of the drinks that evening, if she hadn’t been sure to keep a clear head. His hands rested at the edge of her dress, slipping just underneath, and she pressed closer still.

As the music drew to a close again, she guided swiftly them off the floor to one of the hallways she had marked earlier. Eyes followed them, but they weren’t the only ones to leave. They turned a corner, just far enough away that the light from the ballroom faded to a dim glow and the music to a dull hum in the background. Rey pushed the stranger up against the wall, hands braced on his shoulders, while his wrapped around her waist. She leaned in to kiss him, then detoured to press her lips against his neck. She growled in frustration at the fabric that still blocked her there and pulled at his collar to try to get to his skin. His hands here running hot and heavy along her back, then he gripped her, turning them until she was against the wall. 

His fingers spanned from her spine to the curve of her breasts, slipping under the fabric there as he buried his head in the curve of her neck. She gasped at the press of the cool metal against her flushed skin. She held onto him as he roamed her body, hands following the lines of her dress, then searching underneath. His gloves slid along the curves of her breasts, and the heat of his skin burned her through them. The seams dragged along the sensitive skin as his hands explored further, pressed close to her by the tight fit of the fabric. Her hands clenched on his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, wanting more than the few points of contact. 

Guided by her grip, he slid downwards, hands mapping her waist, then her hips, the sensation lost and then found again once he made his way under her skirts. The slits in the fabric made it easy for him to push aside. He spread his hands across her hips, pressing into the bones and muscles there, then drifted lower, pushing her undergarments down easily. She was panting now, the sound loud in the empty hallway. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and she thought she could feel his as well, beating against her. 

Her fingers trailed between her legs, tentative at first, then with increasing pressure as she used her grip on his shoulders to pull him closer, until she thought she could feel his breath through his mask. His gloves slipped between her folds, dragging her wetness upwards. She groaned and arched her hips towards him, aching for more. He leaned his forehead against her stomach and she gasped again, the metal warming against her skin. His fingers moved faster against her, sliding within her and circling where she was most sensitive. He wrapped the hand not buried between her legs around her thigh and drew it over his shoulder. Her shoe tangled in the fabric at his back as her leg curled around him, and he worked her higher. 

His mask pressed just above where his fingers worked into her, the pressure increasing every time she rocked her hips. The folds of his sleeves rubbed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as he moved. She tilted her head back against the wall, staring unseeing at the ceiling, and bit her lip to keep her gasps from echoing through the hall. She clenched around the gloved fingers inside of her, the sensation somehow headier than if he had removed the leather first. She could feel every ridge as he crooked his fingers. She came, bending over him, holding back the cry that pressed against her lips.

She stayed bent, panting for a moment, then rose, pulling him with her. A flash of irritation ran through her at still being faced with his impenetrable mask. He crushed himself against her again before she could do something about it, helm settling back into the curve of her neck, and she heard his harsh breathing through the apparatus. He fumbled at his pants between her legs, finally removing something of his clothing. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he positioned himself, the broad head of him pressing against her entrance. She used her leverage to thrust down onto him, and they both gasped. The ridges of his mask imprinted themselves into her neck as he clutched her to him, every inch of them as close as their clothes would allow. She buried her face in his shoulder to muffle herself, teeth catching on the details of his tunic. They started a rhythm together, harsh and quick, both desperate for something just out of reach. It burned across her skin, that this was somehow still not enough, that there was more - 

He pounded into her, again and again, and she met his every move. Their hands clutched at each other; she could feel the wetness on her waist where the glove he had filled her with before now gripped her. Every detail made itself clear on her hypersensitive skin, from the stretch of him inside her, to the drag of his pants against her thighs, to the rough weave of his cape under her fingers. His mechanical breathing was harsh in her ears, and another swell of irritation rose up for the contraption. She wanted to feel his lips, to dig her teeth into his neck. Dragging her hands from his back, she explored again the edges of his mask, trying to focus around the pleasure rushing through her veins. He grunted as she gave a particularly hard yank, but made no move to help her. Instead, his hand made its way back between her thighs, rubbing just above where he entered her. 

She fumbled at this distraction, squeezing her legs even harder around him, in ineffective retaliation. She kept at her task, breath hitching, until she finally hit on a hidden catch, and with a hiss, the mask released. She pulled it off triumphantly, tossing it to the floor, where it landed with a crash. He growled, the sound finally free, and a thrill ran through her at hearing his deep voice unhindered. Her eyes tried to adjust to the dim light, but she saw only a flash of dark hair before his mouth crashed to hers. She met his invasion, teeth tugging on his lip, and he picked up the pace, both of them racing to their conclusion. His thumb rubbing against her pushed her over first, and she came with a cry into his mouth. He took it and followed close behind, hips losing their brutal pace. They slowly still against each other, each breathing in the other, bodies tightly entwined. 

She was reluctantly beginning to loosen her legs from his waist, considering in the back of her mind how much time she had remaining, when a call from down the hallway caused her to drop all at once. The absence of his body was sudden, and she had to restrain the urge to pull him back to her. His hand lingered at her waist, as if he was fighting the same desire.

“Ren!” The call came again, closer this time. 

Rey’s eyes flew up to her partner’s face in shock. She barely caught a glimpse of pale features, dark eyes, and a mouth opened as if to say something before he hurriedly bent down for his mask. Her eyes widened with disbelief. This was Senator Ren, the man she was stealing from? Her hands immediately went up to check that her own mask was in place, though it covered little more than her cheekbones. She glanced back at the senator. He had replaced his mask and was turned to face the voice, but he looked back at her, still seeming to have something to say. 

“This affair has been months in preparation; you cannot just disappear. I don’t care what the Su-” The voice was closer now, nearly within sight of them. 

Rey didn’t even pause to smooth down her skirts before she turned and ran. 

She stopped once she was far enough away that the hall was silent except for her harsh breathing. In her head, she was calling herself every kind of idiot. Of all the people to get off with, she had to choose the Senator. She straightened, consciously calming her breathing. She could still carry out her job. She was where she needed to be, and she would be far away by the time the Senator realized what had happened. She looked around, mapping in her head the turns she had made in her panic. Straightening her dress in case the hallways weren’t as empty as they seemed, she set out for the Senator’s office. 

Once outside the door, she paused to check again for anyone approaching. When the hall remained silent, she entered the code she’d paid good money to get, allowing herself a sigh of relief when the door clicked open in response. She slipped inside, shutting the door swiftly behind her. She looked only briefly around the room, which was lit by the lights of the city filtering through the single window. She focused instead on the large desk. She quickly walked around it, reaching up to remove the tools tucked under her updo and curls. The locks on the drawers yielded easily to her, and she went through each in turn. 

In short time, she had the desk open to her, but still had found no sign of her prize. She examined each again, feeling around the edges for hidden catches or other secrets. Again she was left empty-handed. She bit back her frustration and began examining the desk itself, running her hands over the sides and underneath. Finally, laying on her back beneath the desk, she caught sight of an imperfection in the otherwise flawless design. She traced the nearly invisible edges of a rectangle hidden behind the drawers on the right hand side. She tried to wedge her fingernails around it, but they couldn’t grip the edges. The compartment resisted attempts from her tools as well, most of them designed for entry more high tech than brute force. 

She gave up and resumed her efforts with her hands, feeling as if it was just slipping from her grip. She gritted her teeth and concentrated, feeling each edge, picturing how the hidden drawer had to be shaped, how it would come out if she pulled it just - there. It popped out and she fell backwards onto her hands. 

Set in a hole perfectly shaped for it was a small square box that was slightly larger than the palm of her hand. Excitement rising, she pulled it out and cracked it open, grinning when she saw the artifact inside. Setting the box to the side for the moment, she turned to slide the hidden drawer closed again. Something stopped her at the last moment, possibly the same feeling that had led her down a dark hallway with a stranger. Quickly, she pulled the tie of her mask loose and took it off, her heart pounding. She wedged the mask in the gap where the box had been before quickly closing it. 

She carefully slid out from under the desk and stood up, box in hand. She opened it fully. Inside lay a deep red crystal in a nest of heavy dark fabric, marred by a long crack running across it. The light from the window shone orange through her prize, and she raised her other hand to touch it, as if it called to her. Before she could, the sound of footsteps approaching in the hallway startled her. She snapped the box shut and looked around the room frantically. It was largely empty, and there was no excuse she could give for being in the Senator’s office. 

She turned to the window. Grabbing hold of the decorative cords crossing across her dress, she pulled, and they came free, loose stitches popping easily. She rapidly chained the long pieces together, then pulled the cage holding her hair up free from its pins. With her hair falling over her shoulders, she turned back to the window, tools in hand. She worked around the edges of the frame, quickly freeing the pane from its housings. It fell to the ground below, and she winced at the crash several stories down. There was no time to worry about it. Her hands slipped as she tied the cage to the end of the makeshift rope and hooked it over the edge of the window. She wiped them on her dress, willing herself into calmness, then tucked her tools and the box into her dress just as the footsteps in the hall stopped outside of the door. 

She climbed through the window, stopping briefly just outside to give the rope an experimental tug. It held, and she swiftly lowered herself down the side of the building. The rope ran out a floor and a half from the ground. She took a deep breath, leaned into the wall, then pushed off, giving the rope a wide flick. The cage came free from the window and fell with her to the ground. She landed on her feet and took barely a moment to absorb the impact before she was off and running, disappearing in the the city streets. She patted the lump on her chest where the box was tucked, remembering with a flash of heat another touch there earlier. She picked up her pace and didn’t look back.


End file.
